


Forward

by theleftboobgrabber



Series: Tumblr fics [8]
Category: The Rook (TV 2019)
Genre: Episode 8 Spoilers, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Hive Mind, Multi, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Season/Series 01, character study of a sort, gestalt pov, thirsty gestalt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-31 23:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20248318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleftboobgrabber/pseuds/theleftboobgrabber
Summary: It’s only on Monday morning, in the conference room, as They witness someone helping Ingrid moving her things from her secretary desk to Myfanwy’s Rook office that it truly hits Them.Gone.She’s gone.





	Forward

**Author's Note:**

> i just want more of the Rook

It’s the hardest thing They ever did. Letting her go. It takes Them three tries to do.

A hug through Eliza -close and tight.

Something about Farrier through Robert -professional, proper. She cares about Farrier after all.

And finally a goodbye through Alec. A benediction, almost. _ Go. I love you. Be happy. If you come back, I’ll be here. _Not in so many words, but the feeling is there.

It’s an actual effort not to stop her through Teddy and grab her and kiss her and beg her to stay.

But it wouldn’t be fair. Part of Them don’t care and almost do it, almost let Their greedier part in control. They close their eyes for a second, rose oil swarming Them, soft hair in their hand and- gone. 

_ It wouldn’t be fair to force her to stay, _They remind Themselves_. But what about me? _

It’s always been her for Them. Always Myfanwy. They love her, They need her but They can’t be like Farrier and Bristol, pawing at her for their own designs and need, pushing her to things she’s afraid of and lying to her and using her…

They can’t do that.

So They watch her go through Teddy’s eyes and They don’t move, heartbeat in their throat, feeling sick, memorising the lines of her body, the newfound confidence in her steps.

“Goodbye Myfanwy,” They say one last time, four voices choking on her name, four hearts hammering against their chest and wiping too many tears to count as soon as They’re alone.

It’s always been her, and They finally let her go.

Then Farrier’s in the wind. She’s technically a free woman but c’mon, she’s too valuable and knowledgeable for the Checquy to lose track of. The Russians aren’t happy (they rarely are anyway) but the real worry is the government threatening to shut down the agency right now.

Stooping british citizens from being sold as slaves on the black market is apparently a big no-no. Something the Checquy must pay for.

Gestalt always hated politics, but now their revulsion is so deep seated in their guts nothing could make it better. _ Politicians. _At least now Gestalt is fixed on the question They never could bring Themselves to ask out loud. Even after all their years of service, their life could be dismissed, just like Myfanwy’s, for the sake of keeping rotten alliances with known slavers, saving face on the telly and diplomatic bullshit.

It’s a few hectic days of running around for Grantchester. Hell, They barely have the time to process Myfanwy’s gone, even with four brains and four heart breaking.

*

It’s only on Monday morning, in the conference room, as They witness someone helping Ingrid moving her things from her secretary desk to Myfanwy’s Rook office that it truly hits Them. 

Gone.

She’s gone.

Old, distant Myfanwy.

New, confusing Myfanwy.

Gone.

They pour all their anger and guilt and want into Alex and storm off, Ingrid’s guilty expression not helping (They’re not pissed at her. Ingrid’s a gem and a remarkable woman. But now there is no pretending possible, no denying that she’s gone and _ They’re alone _). They continue to listen to Grantchester’s brief through Robert, Teddy and Eliza but Alec leaves the building and go sulk outside.

Grantchester just frown a second at Alex’s retreating back before continuing. He knows Them well enough to know Gestalt works better this way, if They can compartmentalize and put strong emotions in quarantine.

Gestalt takes a deep breath and falls on a bench, lying down with one arm under his head, thumb in his mouth, biting at the nail mercilessly. It’s a rare sunny day in London and They turn his head to the fibble sun and close his eyes, imagining where she is, what she’s doing.

_ Gone. _

*

“You really look out of place here,” she says in his ears.

They scramble up, heart in their throat. The surprise shakes Gestalt so much even the three other bodies stand up from their seats in the conference room, shaken.

Grantchester looks at Them with wide eyes, calling their names, but for a moment, there is just her. Just _ Myfanwy _. Right in front of Them. 

She sits down with a pleased smile on her face and pats the bench beside her.

“I don’t bite.”

“You do,” They say, because she does, because she’s here and They must be dreaming.

They all sit back and Teddy mutters a _sorry_ at Grantchester while Eliza clears her throat.

Alex sits down and Myfanwy slides close, thigh against thigh, her left hand searching for his. Gestalt takes it quickly, afraid she’ll dissolve into the air if he doesn’t anchor her- and Themselves. She smiles and puts her head on his shoulder like she belongs there. 

She does.

“Why do I look out of place?” They asks.

All Gestalt can do is look at her, the miracle of her, alive, fine, smiling and _ here. _

She laughs, tugging playfully at his bright red adidas vest.

“You look like a shav on soccer night, not someone haunting British Intelligence antechambers.”

In the conference room, Eliza and Robert turns their eyes to Teddy and his perfect business attire. They all smile, Robert awkwardly coughing their amusement. 

No one makes fun of Them like she does, memory or not.

“‘m not a chav,” Gestalt protests, pretending to be offended, pouting a little. 

“Kinda.”

Alec might be a chav, but They’re that brand of chav that’s _ adorable _, like the kid from Kingsman (and sue Gestalt, their sportswear are comfy, way better than Eliza’s bras after a long day or the heels They sometimes have to wear for work. Even Teddy’s trademark button up shirts are somewhat constrictive).

And it’s not like Myf is anything better. She has always looked every inch the stereotypical mousy bureaucrat she was, modest sweaters and knee length skirts, all in soft pastel, all very conservative and professional. Like she wanted to be confused with a wall or something. Invisible. Forgettable. Safe.

Gestalt had had _ thoughts _ about those long skirts for the longest time. Push her against her neat desk and seat her there to kiss her until she can’t breathe without begging for it, sliding a hand up her tight, bunching the fabric of her skirt with the other as They go up up up…

_ Thoughts. _

But she’s not wearing a skirt today. No. Instead she’s in the same kind of clothes They found her in when she was kidnapped last week: dark skinny jeans, black boots and a low cut curry tank top under the leather jacket They had no idea she owned (if there is one item of clothing They wouldn’t have expected to see in her closest it would have been that jacket. Or _ that dress _. God fucking damnit that dress had blindsided Gestalt in the best way). But perhaps old Myfanwy didn’t, perhaps it was this new Myfanwy that had bought it.

It suits her.

She’s wearing that like she wore that damned blue dress, brazen, the tilt of her head like a dare.

“You have eyes on Grantchester? I need to speak with him,” she asks after a minute of just cuddling his side.

Alec nods at the same time Eliza tells the King that Myfanwy is here to see him.

“He’ll wait for you in his office,” he answers her a moment later, relaying the message. “Care to share with the class?”

She laughs and kisses his cheek like a tease, before getting up and walking away with an assurance They rarely ever see in her.

And yes, her arse looks _ fantastic _ in those jeans.

They have wondered for years how she was before Glengrove, if she was raised into her meekness or if it was a consequence of electrocuting her dad and the guilt that came with it. They had seen glimpses of an answer before: flashes here and there, but never maintained. Never balanced. Never like this.

They smile, all of Them, incapable of not letting it spread.

Ingrid rolls her eyes in front of Eliza but in that fond way of hers and Gestalt goes to work, for the first time in days breathing without a weight in their chests. 

Myfanwy’s here. And she’s not going anywhere but forward. 

*

It’s later she comes back to Them.

She plops down near Eliza and knocks their shoulders together, smiling that brand new smile at Robert at the same time.

They like that, her being incapable of just picking one. She picks Them, all of Them. 

She did say she likes options.

“Before I left I-” now she falters, a second, eyes distant, old Myf to the bone, insecure at taking space. She straighten. “Before I left and got kidnapped by the Vultures, before Linda told me everything… I asked you tell me about us.”

“And then you went away,” They say, Teddy’s voice always more suitable for the harsh truth, like a boxer favouring a particular fist over the other. It’s a role They gave their bodies, not just only for work but simply for life. Now some of their emotions are easier to express through one body. People aren’t nice to Teddy, they’re professional. Colleagues joke with Robert and Alex and invite them to have a few drinks, but they show off their kid pictures to Eliza and listen to her when she says _ dump his bloody arse, Karen _.

“I know. I couldn’t deal with being here, being lied to, used and- so I ran away. It seemed logical at the time. The Checquy had made me -old me, I mean- miserable in so many ways. And you. Gestalt I couldn’t face you. I couldn’t tell you that she -that _ I _ chose to erase all of me, including the part of me that loves you. Old me was scared and traumatized and she decided for a new start. And I couldn’t tell you that. I couldn’t hurt you like that and so I ran away because I was scared and pissed at Farrier and all-” she gestures around, “this, the agency and their lies. It was shitty and it hurted you anyway. _ I hurt you _. Twice now.”

“Myf you don’t-” They starts through Eliza, but she cuts Them.

“Yes I do.”

They smile. They were never good at watching her hurt and do nothing.

Back at Glengrove, Gestalt was mostly alone. The freak. The hive mind. Those four. _ Them _. It wasn't a pronoun, it was a warning and some kind of horrific title that made people queasy. And Gestalt had not tried too hard to be friendly or accepted (it drove the instructors mad. After all, how were They supposed to be a spy if They couldn’t socialise like a proper teenager?). People gave Them a wide berth. 

Myfanwy on the other hand was a slip of a girl that looked like bumping her on the shoulder could sent her flying and the other kids found her dull.

But Gestalt was intrigued. 

Then They were interested. 

And finally They _ wanted _.

She didn’t get Them for a while. The quadruplets, that’s who They were to her, and people telling her Gestalt was just _ one and the same, _ she just thought it was a recurring prank on the new student. At times, it had been awkward being her friend. She had a crush on Robert for a while and made Eliza swear more than once not to tell her brother.

Gestalt had floated around Glengrove the first time she did, incapable of doing anything, dizzy and hopeful and feeling like a creeper at the same time.

Then Bristol came into the picture. 

Gestalt knew then They weren’t a creeper, because _ he was _.

_ After _, Gestalt had held her down, the meds not doing their job to keep her calm. She was screaming and the raw knowledge she might kill herself after what happened -what she did- to Glengrove was driving Gestalt mad with anticipatory grief. 

They held her down as she cried, as she begged, as she swore. 

They held her down as she refused to eat.

As she bite Them and kicked Them.

As the guilt rot her from inside.

As the fear took hold of her too.

_ I don’t want to hurt you too _ , she sobbed in Eliza’s neck, shouted at Alex’s face. _ I don’t want to hurt you too. _

It was lucky she had not witnessed Teddy right after the explosion, the blood gushing from the cut on his head, his platinum hair tinted red, his face covered with it. A table had crashed into him during the explosion, but didn’t kill him ny some miracle. Gestalt doesn’t want to think about what wouldn’t happen if They had lost that part of Themselves.

But Gestalt knew she could never know that, because They would lose her. She would never get close to Them again if she did. 

“I’m staying at the Checquy. No more running,” Myfanwy says, her words slapping Them away from their memories.

They frown. “But your sister?”

Myfanwy shakes her head. “Is a well meaning but deluded woman. I sold for 40 millions-”

“45,” They correct, Robert’s voice ice cold, Teddy’s fists tightening, Eliza biting her inner cheek, hard. Alec takes Myfanwy’s hand in his across the table, gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“45.” She shakes her head again, resolve hardening the lines of her face. “Nowhere is safe. It was a miracle someone decent infiltrated that Vulture nest. And I don’t know about you, but my life and my odds to lead it freely shouldn't depend on miracles.”

She squeezes their hand back.

They understand that.

They keep their eyes on her -beautiful, determined- but Robert’s. Through him, Gestalt glances at her- well, no her _old_ office. Ingride is currently taking a call, her stuff in place and Myfanwy’s in two boxes piled on a chair by the glass door.

If Myfanwy wanted her old job back, she would have dressed for the part but still. “The King gave-”

“My post at ingrid, I know. She was- I mean, _ I _ was good at it but... not anymore. Ingrid more than deserves the promotion.”

She waves with her free hand at her old secretary and Ingrid waves back absently, still on the phone.

“Field, then?” They guess. 

She did a lot of leg work last week, and a lot of lying. With training she will be unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with. And an even bigger target. He saw first hand was she was capable of at Glengrove and what she did to all those who attacked her on the Millenium bridge, and then again at the bank. Flukes, instinct. 

But what she did to Lorik was on purpose. And she did it well.

She nods, that same brazen smile on her lips and They’re immediately feeling that _ thing _ between Them. Their heartbeats picks up, Alec’s hand tighten around hers.

“I’ll need a mentor. Or four,” she says, cheeky and serious at the same time, looking at Them, all of Them, all of Gestalt.

It takes everything They have not to take her right there on the conference table -the bloody room is made of window after all. 

She cocks her head, noticing the strain of their faces, the need, contained but there. And she bits her lip, wanting right back. 

_ Oh she knows _ , _ she knows how I feel about her, how I want her, how I crave her._

She knows and smiles and it says _ later. _

With her other hand she stops Gestalt from biting Alec’s nails.

“It’s a bad habit.” 

Then without missing a beat, she turns to Teddy and fondly glares at him for immediately picking up the gesture. 

She knows Them. All of Them. 

And it’s weird, because it’s not old Myfanwy, she doesn’t have the context or their history, but she knows Them. And she’s more than enough. Not a replacement, not a consolation prize. She’s Myfanwy, and They always loved her. 

And perhaps now she can let herself love Them.

*

It’s a long, long day of planning for possible russian retaliation with the hanging threat of the agency being shut down.

Grantchester seems to be in over his head but fucking elated too about being the one in charge, so Gestalt doesn’t have much time to think about Myfanwy in between bouts of doubt about the agency’s future and the new King rambling over a hypothetical grand plan that actually sound pretty solid.

When They get back home, she’s already waiting for Them at the door with a dozen take out bags on her arms.

They want to crow her against a wall and _ fucking own her. _

They breath deep, but it’s impossible to hide the heat that’s driving Them mad with want for her.

“I had to call Ingrid for your address and to check for allergies,” she says, self conscious, holding the bags of food in front of her like an offering. “I hope it’s okay.”

“I never say no to free food,” Alex says, grabbing at few bags for want of grabbing _ her _ and kissing her against the wall until They can’t stand the damn clothes between Them. “Thank you.”

Robert opens the door and rushes in, hiding his face in her hands because bloody hell it’s happening, she’s here and she’s here for Them.

Teddy’s eyes linger on her face, her lips, her cleavage and goes in, cool and assured and in control but Alex betrays Them, biting his lip and breathing too hard, gidy and too high on her to hide it so he goes in and internally panic, They can’t look like an eager teenager to her, _ bloody fucking hell, what am i? 14?_

Myfanwy stops Eliza before she can go in and kisses her on the cheek, faux innocent but sincere at the same time.

Gestalt three other bodies stop dead in their tracks, inhaling her perfume, hearts beating too fast.

_ This can’t be healthy, _ Gestalt thinks, eyes on her lips as she smiles again, God, she never used to smile this much, not even to Them. They watch her go in their flat like a hundred times before _ , except its bloody not the same. _

She’s not going anywhere but forward. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you loved it, kudos and comments are ALWAYS a good way to show it, here, on [tumblr](http://theleftboobgrabber.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/AngryGuii)!
> 
> Feedback is love ❤


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